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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27689668">Rooting a Cutting</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/AntlersandFangs/pseuds/AntlersandFangs'>AntlersandFangs</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Companionship, Gardening, Healing, Hopeful, Other, Tal-Vashoth The Iron Bull (Dragon Age), nonverbal autistic character</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 02:16:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,515</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27689668</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/AntlersandFangs/pseuds/AntlersandFangs</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The Iron Bull finds an unexpected peace after going Tal Vashoth.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>95</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Rooting a Cutting</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Tal Vashoth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tal fucking Vashoth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His boys were alive. He didn’t regret it. They were alive and they were keeping an eye on him. Krem had grimly told him that they’d take him down if they needed, but had added that they wouldn’t need to. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tal Vashoth. It had been a long time coming, inching closer and closer each year, but now that he was, he found it… terrifying. He didn’t like being scared. He wanted to go fight something, put the restless energy under his skin to good use, face down something dangerous and come out on top, but the Boss had left him in Skyhold to ‘get his head straight’. It was the last thing he needed. He kept pestering the spymaster for jobs for him and the boys until she had slammed a book down on the desk hard enough to make her ravens fly into the air in a cacophony of caws, shrieks, and thundering wings. She stared at him flatly until they settled enough for her to be heard.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She said to stay here, The Iron Bull. Go for a walk, train the recruits, anything that keeps you in Skyhold.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That was that, then. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He could ride out and fight something anyway, but this was good, easy money, and he wasn’t going to risk that for his boys. So he went on a walk. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had explored Skyhold before, every bit he was allowed in and several that he wasn’t, so he turned his steps towards the parts of the castle where the nobles never went, and then he just let his feet wander. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a garden behind the kitchens. He had explored it when they had first gotten here and it had been full of crumbling rocks, overgrown weeds, and an incongruous dragonling skeleton. Now it was neatly ordered, beds full of thriving plants, pathways paved with the stones, and the dragonling skeleton had been taken apart and was being used as… tomato stakes. Huh. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a gardener there who was staring at him, or rather his chest, with wide eyes, a garden shovel clutched in their hands. Suddenly they set the shovel aside and moved towards him, crouching in front of him and batting at his leg with the back of their hand. Bull looked down and then moved with an apology when he saw that he had stepped on an escaping branch of some sort. The crushed leaves let out a pungent scent that reminded him of that green paste the Ambassador liked to smear over her meat at supper. The gardener ignored him, inspecting the branch before drawing a pair of scissors and snipping the crushed plant away from the source plant. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Instead of tossing it onto the rubbish heap, the gardener inspected the cutting carefully before moving away and putting it into a pot, filling it with a bit of water and setting it on a bench with trays of tiny potted plants. Prolonging it’s death for some reason.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Like him. Cut off from the system that kept him in check to slowly wither and go mad.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bull left the garden and went to train some of the recruits.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He found himself back in the garden again a few days later, unsure why he had wandered into the garden again, but careful not to step on any of the plants this time. The gardener looked up from a row of green somethings and stared at his chest again before standing up, brushing their hands off on their clothes and moving to the bench of potted things. They sorted through them and then held up one of them, presenting it. Bull was surprised to see it was the same plant he had crushed, surprised enough to take it when the gardener shoved it into his hands. The cutting wasn’t dead. There were white, hair like roots coming from the cut stem in the water, tiny, barely there, but it was… growing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t know plants could do that,” Bull said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The gardener didn’t reply, just nodded and turned back to their work. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bull put the plant back on the bench, feeling a bit ridiculous that he felt hopeful about himself because the little plant he had crushed was going to live and grow. Was a little dramatic for his tastes. He watched the gardener working, finally identifying the green things as turnips as they pulled them from the ground. Funny, he hadn’t known that turnips grew underground any more than he had known you could grow plants from cut plants. It hadn’t been in his training. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gardening wasn’t his purpose, but he was Tal Vashoth now, the Qun wasn’t here to give him purpose. So he spoke to the gardener. “Can I help?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The gardener froze and stared at the sky with a deep frown for a long moment before slowly nodding, waving him over with an agitated hand, then patting the stone pathway in a fluttering gesture. Bull knelt down beside them and watched intently as the gardener silently showed him how to nudge the soil aside to check the size of the turnip root, big as an apple meant it would be pulled out, the greens separated from the root with a deft twist of a knife, the root went into one basket, the greens into another. The gardener handed him a sickle shaped knife and left him to it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bull worked carefully at the unfamiliar task, noticing and remembering everything as he always did: The feel of the oddly warm soil under his fingers, the heft of the roots, the prickly hairs on the greens, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>shnick</span>
  </em>
  <span> sound of the blade slicing through stems. It was soothing in an unfamiliar way, and he felt a little bereft when the task was finished.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The gardener peered into the baskets and made a deep humming sound in their chest before taking the knife back and pointing at a bucket of water. Bull washed the soil from his hands and then bowed to the gardener and thanked him in Qunlat before leaving. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There were turnips in the stew that night and Bull found himself wondering if they were the turnips he had picked. It was a nice thought. Eating what he had worked for, it was direct, simple. He liked it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Boss came back and took him to fight the dragon in Crestwood while his boys took care of cleaning up the area. It was a glorious fight and he came back with his blood raging, a feral joy under his skin. He drank with the boss, he got one of the tavern girls to come several times around his fingers and tongue, he sparred with Solas and only barely managed to break through the guy’s barriers to win. It was a good few weeks.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then the Boss went back out with the demon kid, the dwarf, and Solas, and left him behind again and he found his footsteps taking him back to that garden behind the kitchens. The Silent Gardener was there and they let out that deep humming sound when they saw him and waved him over to the bench of potted plants. They picked up a pot with soil in it, and the cutting Bull had stepped on, and held it out with the tiny shovel they used to dig. Bull took them, feeling a bit… off footed at the gesture, and followed the gardener to a space near some tomato bushes. The Silent Gardener pointed to an empty patch of soil and then showed him how to hollow out a space for it, then tip the plant out of the pot and into the hole and gently cover it with soil. A bit of water and then… </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was the crushed plant, bruised, wounded, cut from its source… now growing and thriving. He touched the leaves with marred, battle hardened hands and felt a bit of hope for himself. Ridiculous, but nice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Silent Gardener handed him the sickle shaped knife and Bull followed them to plants with large, hairy leaves. They were squash plants, and The Silent Gardener showed him how to select and carefully cut away the soft skinned yellow fruits. They worked beside each other silently, and it was good work, simple and honest. He wasn’t Liar anymore, he was The Iron Bull, and Bull was harvesting squashes for meals. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wondered about the gardener, always silent, but obviously able to hear. Deft fingered and sure in their work and never looking directly at him. It wasn’t because they were scared of him, they didn’t have any of the other tells of someone scared of his race or size, they just didn’t look at his face. The Silent Gardener inspected one of the squash plants and with a pair of quick, sure movements, cut off a pair of yellow flowers. They popped one in their mouth and handed the other to him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bull ate it, chewing thoughtfully on the flower. He hadn’t eaten flowers before. It was good. “It’s good,” He said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Silent Gardener nodded and let out that deep humming noise, looking up at the sky and grinning. They had a bit of yellow petal stuck in their teeth and Bull had the impulse to lick into their mouth. So he did, moving slow enough they could move away if they wanted, cupping their jaw gently and kissing them. The Silent Gardener was frowning when he pulled back, but it was a thoughtful frown. They were still for a long moment and Bull waited for their reaction, curious. They licked their lips and then nodded and cut another blossom and handed it to him before moving to the next squash plant. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bull huffed in amusement at the near lack of reaction and finished helping gather the squash. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He went back the next day after drills and The Silent Gardener jumped to their feet when he showed up and hummed before coming closer and tilting their face up, though they still didn’t look at his face. It took a second to realize what they wanted, and then Bull kissed them gently on the mouth. They were smiling when he pulled back and they hummed again, a sound he was quickly realizing was a happy sound, and led him over to a bed grown over with what looked like vines. The Silent Gardener picked up a shovel and handed it to him and mimed digging.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright.” He agreed and dug the too small shovel into the earth and flipped it so the vines were buried under the clod of dirt. The Silent Gardener hummed and nodded before moving to the little tool shed in the corner of the garden. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bull worked in peaceful silence, enjoying the simple usefulness of the task, and the easy companionship of The Silent Gardener. It wasn’t difficult work, but it did use muscles he didn’t normally use when he drilled, something in his lower back, and the slight burn kept him grounded in the work, kept him focused. He turned the entire bed and straightened to stretch out his back. The Silent Gardener came over to inspect his work and nodded and hummed, then fluttered their hands in a ‘follow me’ gesture. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Iron Bull followed them, curious and wondering what was next. They pulled a wagon behind them, and they moved through the pathways out to the butcher house. The sounds of animals dying was thick in the air, and the thuds of blades cutting through meat. It sounded remarkably close to a battle and The Iron Bull was on high alert as The Silent Gardener approached the back entrance of the building. They hesitated, shaking their head back and forth. Bull moved and rapped on the door jam in their stead. “Hey.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>One of the butchers looked up from the counter they were cutting apart a ram on, and gasped at the sight of him, then called out to a dark haired woman shouting orders. The woman’s eyes widened when she looked at him and then hurried over with a scowl. “What do you want? We don’t need trouble.” She had a Fereldon accent.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No trouble, ma’am. I’m here with them.” Bull jerked a thumb over his shoulder towards The Silent Gardener, who was still clutching the handle of the wagon tightly, staring at the ground.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The woman relaxed slightly and spoke to the gardener, pointing to the other side of the butcher’s house. “I had them set the barrels round the side. It’s mostly ram’s this time. Help yourself.” With that, she went back to directing the butchers inside.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Silent Gardener hauled the wagon in the direction she had pointed, stopping by a trio of large barrels full of…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is that blood?” Bull asked, peering into the barrel. That was definitely blood. Gallons and gallons of blood. He didn’t think he’d seen that much blood in one place before; strewn all over the sand or mud, yes, gushing from a friend’s wound to be swallowed by the earth, yes, but never in a barrel.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Silent Gardener nodded and then squatted by one of the barrels to try and heft it up, and The Iron Bull moved quickly to help them. They put all three barrels in the wagon and then together hauled them back to the gardens. The Silent Gardener relaxed when they were back in the neatly ordered space and showed him how to fill the watering cans half with blood and half with water, then they poured the mixture over the entire garden, careful to not douse the leaves and plants themselves with it, but so the roots could soak it up. Blood as fertilizer. Bull learned something new every time he came in here. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a metaphor in there somewhere if he thought about it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He went back to his room with dirt and blood under his nails and muscles aching. A familiar feeling from an unfamiliar day of tasks. Krem eyed him in concern when he walked by, and Bull gave him a reassuring smile. “Good day,” Was all he said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Krem raised an eyebrow and looked pointedly at a splatter of blood on his arm. Bull grinned and didn’t tell him what he’d been up to. The Silent Gardener and their garden was… private. Something just for him. He didn’t have to report what he was up to to anybody, he didn’t have to wait for his superior’s approval. He was just spending his free time how he wanted, and if he was going to be Tal Vashoth, then he might as well revel in the freedom of doing odd things for no other reason than he wanted to.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He scrubbed the blood and dirt from himself and fell asleep with the memory of the taste of the raw green beans he had shared with The Silent Gardener and the taste of their kisses. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was a nice memory. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not as nice as the memory of the sound that dragon had made when she had gone down, but still...</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nice. </span>
</p>
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